


Skipping Leg Day

by Defnotmeyo



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:42:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defnotmeyo/pseuds/Defnotmeyo
Summary: You never skip leg day, son.





	

Since the New Year, Fox Mulder has been blissed out. No really… as blissed out as one from the Mulder family can get. If he thinks about it, he would be forced into saying he probably fell for his partner somewhere around when she disappeared from his life for three months. If he were prone to say it, he would admit to much, much later. Maybe sometime around when a cow fell down on his bed.

Logically, he knows he’s had it bad for a lot longer than that. If he were to get dark, he knew he was in deep the moment she fucked Ed Jerse. But he doesn’t want to get in deep right now. They’ve debating the Goldberg Variation with the same gusto they debate everything and well… Scully’s on her knees showing him a magic trick. At his zipper level. 

Nah, Mulder isn’t going to get in deep right now or anytime soon to preserve his little bit of happiness. Not in deep metaphysically anyway.

Which is why, later on a Friday afternoon, he is absolutely affronted by the conversation he manages to pick up near the food cart. 

He frequently forgets that Scully still does have friends in the Hoover Building.

“But c’mon, Dana,” Jim Gorman laughs. “Honestly, I’d rather fight Mulder than you.” Scully defends his honor. “Have you seen him at the pool, Jim? He would whoop your ass.”

Mulder hangs back. This is the most important non-conspiratorial conversation he’s heard in years.

“Dana, I’ve seen your boy at the pool. And the track,” Jim continues. “I’ve seen him bench, even. Sometimes Mulder will press. But you know what I’ve never seen your boy do?”

Mulder’s chest puffs when the other agent refers to him as ‘her boy’. Damn right he is.

“No…” she’s uneasy.

“I have never fuckin’ seen that man squat.”

Mulder’s ego deflates in about two seconds. He doesn’t squat. He doesn’t deadlift, most of the time. Hell, if hard pressed, Mulder doesn’t do shit about his legs. He runs fast, he runs hard, and he still beats everyone at the basketball board, so who cares if he skips leg day? Leg day fucking sucks. Besides… he fucked up his knee in basketball so what is there to argue? Some men don’t do leg day.

Even Scully can’t defend him there. “Mulder… well…”

“Y’all are partners, right?” Jim dredges for clues. “You gotta know his workout schedule; at least somewhat. I’ve seen him lay-up boys on the court but I have never once seen him do leg day.”

“Leg day. You’re bitching about my partner for leg day?”

Jim looks at her sympathetically. "Danes, his calf size could cover his thigh size. Buy your boy some new jeans."

Mulder has a momentary high school flash of horror. He seriously, seriously hates leg day. He has ankle mobility problems. He grew up with shoes. He has knee problems. He played basketball. He hates quad soreness. It makes it harder to sit down and take a….

“Dana, you can’t be a self-respecting man… OR woman… and skip leg day.”

“Gorman,” she interrupts easily, “Mulder out-benches you, he out-presses you, and I guarantee he can out squat you. But more importantly, he out shoots you,” she drabbles soup into a paper cup. “So honestly… If I were a betting person, Mulder’s my horse.” 

That quote gets spread around for days...

\-----

“Hey Spooky…” Jeff, the paralegal, has been a decent buddy of Mulder’s for years. “How’s the track? Won the Derby lately?” The bet has made its way around the entire Hoover Building. Apparently, everyone and everyone’s mom now knows that Mulder skips leg day. And that he's Scully's horse.

When Jim approaches Mulder, it isn’t a surprise. “Yo Spooks.” 

Mulder slaps his hand in patient camaraderie. “What’s up, Jim?”

“So I bet Dana a few bucks. I’m sure you know.”

“That I can’t out squat you. Yes.” Mulder’s eyes are drawn to Jim’s tree trunk thighs. The man could crush a rhino for God’s sake.

“I’m just saying Spooks. I have not once seen you squat. That’s it. But Dana said I could take her on a date if I won. So what do you say, tomorrow on the 4th floor gym, 2 p.m.?”

A date? A fucking date. After everything. A mother fucking date. “Gorman, I hope you’re ready to add some plates.”

\-----

Gym day and there are probably about thirty agents biding their time in their suits at the two squat racks. Jim comes out in his Quantico best – FBI gear all the way, and Mulder comes out in a torn up Knicks shirt and some basketball shorts.

They’ve already loaded the racks up with one plate, and Mulder is instantly irritated that no one seems to think he can squat 135. He shoots a death glare over to Scully, who plans to sneak a work out in after the show and is wearing some obscenely tight  
pants. She just cocks an eyebrow to his knees. ‘Go get ‘em, boy,’ she seems to say.

Gorman reps out ten like he’s squatting an empty bar, but Mulder takes some time to get his hips right. He’s been jacked for ages – thank you, basketball – and he knows he has to get warm enough to drive out of the hole and beat this meathead. 

They start to add weight.

Gorman is built like a brick shit house but Mulder is actually paying attention to form. By the time they start feeling their one rep maximum, they are near the same weight. 

They both squat for 1. Mulder calls it quits. His knee has seen enough for the day.

“I’m out Jim," Mulder announces, starting to strip his weights. 

Jim is incensed. “Hey you fuck…. We both took the same time to get that last rep up. Stop schmaltzing around like you’ve won something.”

Mulder leans against a doorframe and cocks a smile. “How much you weigh, Jim?”

“I dunno, 215. 220 maybe?”

“And you and I just went rep for rep at 365. Guess how much I weigh, Jim?”

The slightly shorter man scoffs. “Mulder you’re 200 in your upper body and 10 pounds in your legs.”

Mulder casts a look over at his partner. She’s about four feet behind him and he winks. “Jim, I’m 185 on a heavy day. And I just whooped your ass on the squat rack. So how about we find the finest restaurant downtown and I’ll cut you the deal you only buy us one drink instead of two. Because after that piss poor showing? You’re taking us BOTH on the date.”

\-----

Later that night, Dana rubs her hand up Mulder’s furry calf, digging in a bit at his knee and continuing up. She massages his slender hamstrings, and by the time she’s cupping his ass, he’s more than three-quarters hard. 

“Admit it, Scully. You’re just glad I won.”

She shifts her face off his breastbone, down towards his belly button, nuzzling and kissing the soft abdominal skin there. She inches down and almost has him in her mouth before looking up at him. 

“Mulder, I knew you would win. I’m just glad I can’t out lift you on leg day.” Those are her last words before completely engulfing him.

If Mulder were a betting man, he would never bet on himself for leg day. But if leg day means Scully’s wet, hot mouth with her full lips sliding over his cock in the best blow job of his life? Mulder thinks he might have to start hitting the squat rack a little harder.


End file.
